


Test Run

by ellerean, SleepingTsundere



Category: Free!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, In Public, M/M, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingTsundere/pseuds/SleepingTsundere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’d never really thought about how Rin might feel. Rin had invaded his space often enough—an arm around his shoulder; that god-awful tickle attack—but to reciprocate it was something he’d never considered, and not to this degree.</i><br/> <br/>Competing against each other was what they knew best, though it had never before included the complete shedding of clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers!**  
>  _Ellerean:_ So neither one of us _really_ believes these lovesick fools would screw around just for the heck of it, but it was a _lot_ of fun to think about. We may have spent more time plotting than writing. Whoops.  
>  _FMAvatard:_ It was way too much fun collabing, haha~ It’s been lovely working with someone so talented and witty. I’d love to do this again!

He’d never really thought about how Rin might feel. Rin had invaded _his_ space often enough—an arm around his shoulder; that god-awful tickle attack—but to reciprocate it was something he’d never considered, and not to this degree.

And he’d definitely never thought about how Rin’s lips might feel, so he was surprised to learn first-hand that they felt pretty good. A bit dry, but that was to be expected this time of year. His own probably felt the same way, just a bit chapped from the sun and the salty air.

A thought or, rather, a realization crossed his mind, which he ignored: _You’re kissing Rin in your bed._

It had started innocently enough, he thought. Sharing a bed—they’d done it before, though five years had passed—but now that same bed felt infinitely smaller. And apparently joking around about old childhood habits could backfire pretty horribly. He hadn’t _expected_ Rin to climb in, to laugh as he snugged against him. “But you _offered_ ,” Rin had teased, his face entirely too close. “Like we used to.”

“Get off!”

But he hadn’t followed through with his threat of pushing Rin off the bed. They’d actually settled beneath the blanket and talked—truly talked—for the first time in years. When had they last been so open with each other? Had it been at that last sleepover, as children, the last time they’d shared this bed?

Obviously they’d talked of swimming, and then Rin had teased Haru about his lack of muscles. “Don’t compare me to you,” he’d said, poking Rin in the chest. It was surprising all of a sudden to see Rin wearing his favorite T-shirt, intrigued by the way it fit him differently, slightly snug over his toned muscles.

 _“What?”_ Rin said.

“How long do you practice to keep them like that?”

“What are you talking about?”

Haru reached for Rin’s biceps, the word _"Don’t"_ never crossing his mind as he rubbed the muscle in awe and curiosity. “This.” Rin was firm… and he was warm…

He couldn’t explain what had possessed him to kiss Rin, nor did he understand why Rin didn’t punch him in the face. All he understood was his lips were warm, too, and he tasted good—though that could’ve been the mackerel he’d made for dinner. It felt good, too, despite their chapped lips and inexperience, not really knowing yet where to tilt their heads and how to align their lips.

He’s thought about Rin for years… he’d allowed himself to be _consumed_ by Rin, even after he’d left for Australia. But now it seemed to be happening all over again, with Rin pulling him closer, an arm slipping around his body and a hand on his back. Haru broke away to take a small, gasping breath— _He’s going to laugh at me; I’m never going to live this down_ —but Rin came back fervently, a sudden tangle of bed sheets and limbs.

They didn’t talk about it. They stared at each other briefly in disbelief, then Rin's hand quickly pulled the blankets up. It was too hot in that bed, with the combination of Rin’s body heat and his own skin feeling like fire. But Haru settled back, staring at the ceiling, allowing Rin to snuggle against him.

“Rin?” he said. It felt strange to speak, with the shadow of Rin’s lips still on his own, like his lips had only ever been used for kissing and not for speech.

But Rin had already fallen asleep. Haru watched, with that arm slung across his body, that red hair spread over his clavicle. He didn’t snore, not really, but he’d mumble and sigh, like he was having a nice dream. And he smelled nice, which Haru had definitely noticed before, but now it was absorbed in his sheets—Rin’s natural musk tinged with the unmistakable scent of chlorine.

He closed his eyes, not in sleep, but to cease the spinning of his head.

Rin felt good: His body, his muscles, his lips.

Haru felt good, a warmth that spread from the depths of his belly.

Rin slung a leg between his as he cuddled closer, his thigh brushing Haru’s crotch.

His gut reaction was to push it away, but he didn’t.

* * *

They didn’t discuss it in the morning. Rin wasn’t even there when Haru woke, having gone on his routine morning run, but when he’d returned for breakfast he didn’t bring it up. Neither did Haru, stubbornly eating his fish, wondering when the heck Rin was going to complain about the mackerel. But he didn’t. After he left for Samezuka, Haru went to make his bed. Already, Rin was interrupting his routine—the bed was often made the moment Haru stepped out of it—but he couldn’t look away from the tangled sheets as he sat down on the side where Rin had slept. The borrowed T-shirt was folded on the headboard, where Rin had left it.

It was Haru’s favorite T-shirt. He idly rubbed the soft, worn fabric. He glanced at the bedroom door, as if anyone would be coming in, then pulled off his shirt to replace it with the unwashed shirt that had clung to Rin’s body all night, much like he had himself.

His first thought was the relief that he hadn’t stretched it out. The second was the overwhelming surge of Rin’s scent, though the T-shirt and the bed were his, though he thought he’d been used to him from the way they’d slept tangled together. That scent assaulted him as he brought the collar to his nose, his senses stinging as he breathed in deep. Though there were a million things Haru should have been doing—making the bed; cleaning up breakfast; taking a bath—he lay in Rin’s imprint on the mattress. It was impossible to ignore the growing swell in his pajama pants.

 _Rin is my friend_ , he thought, closing his eyes as he untied his pants. He sighed as his fingers brushed his cock, pulsing from Rin’s scent alone. _What the hell is this?_ he thought, turning to his side, trying to convince himself it wasn’t to inhale Rin’s scent from the pillow he’d used. The night before had been too much; it hadn’t been enough. He wanted him _there_ , not on the train to Samezuka. _It’s his fault he’s so_ . . . so _what_? Cocky? Attractive?

No, Rin was fucking _hot_. That was such a stupid way of putting it, but it was the best way. That, or _sexy_ , but “sexy” made it sound sophisticated and dignified. No. Rin was the most undignified, unfairly attractive person Haru had ever met. Young and unpredictable and completely boundless. Years of determination and training had given him an ungodly physique, unfairly paired with _that face_. And that voice. That hair and those eyes. Every little possible delectable topping to be had on what was already a perfect confection.

Rin Matsuoka was fucking hot.

Haru had never come so fast. He grunted, realizing too late that he still wore his T-shirt, spoiling it with his own cum. “Shit,” he muttered, yanking it over his head, rushing to the bathroom to wash off the evidence of impure thoughts, to wash his own body and clothes of the lingering scent of _Rin_. 

* * *

He hadn’t asked for Rin to stay over again. But there he was, brushing his teeth in his bathroom again, getting ready for bed. Haru stared at the rolled-up futon in his bedroom. He wouldn’t explicitly admit how much he wanted to share a bed again, but he suspected Rin felt the same. He’d come over after school, again, wanting to be fed (“Don’t you eat anything besides mackerel?”) and Haru was mildly disappointed that he brought his own pajamas.

But then Rin was just _standing_ in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at Haru, who was still staring at the abandoned futon. Haru caught the way Rin eyed the bed, and then eyed him. His look was both curious and predatory, a beast studying his food before the attack. Haru noticed right away his choice of sleepwear, which was too lightweight for the chilly weather—the shorts to the knee, the muscle shirt that dipped low on his chest. Haru couldn’t tear his eyes from the exposed curve of his pecs as Rin stepped into the room, staring at the floor as he slipped an arm around Haru’s waist, resting on the small of his back.

But when Rin kissed him, he felt that familiar burn beneath his skin, which wasn’t unpleasant. And he didn’t resist when Rin tugged him toward the bed, still kissing, and not just his lips. 

* * *

And he continued to stay over, despite the long trip back and forth. Haru knew that Rin had to get permission to stay off-campus, and he knew that his roommate was a busybody, but he didn’t ask. They hardly even spoke when they got to the bedroom, their lips and hands wandering before they even fell into bed. Their nights grew warmer, even as the temperature outside plummeted, the bitter chill in the air turning to snow and sleet, not that Haru noticed or cared what the weather was like.

He didn’t know which he preferred, Rin kissing his lips or Rin kissing his neck. It felt good either way, but both had their individual charm. A simple kiss was warm and inviting, challenging, with Rin pressing him into the bed sheets, making him shiver with his wandering hands, grazing their hips at any chance they took. They’d kiss for so long, without stopping, until one of them absolutely had to breathe, and Haru wondered if this was what drowning felt like, this lightheaded and dizzy sensation. He gasped for air when he was able, and those opportunities only lasted a moment before Rin would have at him again.

If it was his neck receiving attention, though, Haru would be able to breathe perfectly fine, which had its setbacks. Rin was more aggressive here than he was with Haru’s lips, sucking and licking and biting him. And Rin _kept_ biting him, little nips and pulls of Haru’s skin, and Haru might have had some shame in admitting that this factor made necking win over kissing. Maybe if Rin pulled at his lips or sucked them that hard, there’d at least be a tie, but for now, that was fine.

Over time shirts and sweats were unnecessary; they graduated from exploratory touches to full-out groping each other. Haru’s hands were splayed on Rin’s back, and Rin had a penchant for Haru’s legs, his thighs in particular… what would it be like if Rin bit him there? With the way they’d been lately, that didn’t seem like too much of a stretch…

When Rin nipped at his neck again, Haru arched back and felt the contented smile against his throat. Not to be outdone, he slid his hand around Rin’s body (he felt those muscles even in his dreams, when Rin wasn’t there) to the band of his trunks, lightly tugging them down to tease the tip of Rin’s cock.

“You think you can get me off, Haru?” Rin breathed on his ear. Haru pinned him onto his back, reveling in the sound of Rin’s laughter as he tugged off his underwear. Rin didn’t laugh for long—he jerked his hips immediately, grinding into Haru’s hand, shouting a string of expletives as he came before Haru’s mouth even touched him.

“Fucking hell.” Rin shoved his hand away and yanked at Haru’s trunks, the seams tearing as the fabric strained against his hip.

“Rin!” Haru reached for a tissue on the headboard, but Rin pinned his hand down. “God, at least clean up.”

“Punishment,” he replied, grinding his hips against Haru’s hips, smearing his cum between their bodies.

“That is disgusti— ah!” He threw a forearm over his mouth too late; the moan had already escaped the moment Rin jerked his erection without warning.

What did Rin get out of this? He watched Rin’s eyes cloud over as his gaze bored into Haru’s, which was far more rewarding than the sight of his bedroom ceiling or the backs of his own eyelids. Rin’s hips twitched and rolled, his lips parted to let out breathy moans, even though _Haru_ was on the receiving end; Rin already had his turn. He looked away, determined to last at least twice as long as Rin had, though he’d have to stop _looking_ at him if he wanted to last at all.

But Rin knew; somehow, he _knew_. His lips were on Haru’s neck again, sucking that sweet, soft spot on the side of his throat, and he felt the reverberation of Rin’s chuckle as Haru came, a new layer of cum over the already-hardened result of Rin’s release.

Intimacy was easy, with two sexually-deprived teenage boys. It was one thing for Haru to touch himself. It was another when Rin touched him, with Rin pumping his cock, clutching his shoulder for support. They quickly learned over the next few sleepovers (really, Rin was just _living_ there at that point) what the other preferred and detested, and how long they typically lasted. It was fairly easy to tell by feel alone; Rin would get so hard, and Haru could feel him and feel the slickness of precum on his fingers and palm. And then Rin would palm him, too, lying beside each other, the now-familiar feel of the other’s cocks wrapped within their grips.

Sometimes, Rin would just let him. He’d lie back, his naked body exposed to the cool air as Haru handled him, tracing his muscles and sucking his  skin, waiting until Rin groaned in impatience as Haru slipped a hand between his legs. It amused him how quickly Rin reacted, like they didn’t do this _every night_ , like he’d been sexually deprived and had waited all day for Haru to expertly handle his erection. Haru watched him steadily, ignoring the blood flowing to his own groin, waiting. Waiting for him to come undone. Waiting for that cool persona to completely crumble, making this easier than it already was…

His eyes flicked from Rin’s pleasured gasping to the nearby alarm clock.

Any time now.

Rin peered at him with one eye open. “Y-you keep looking at the clock.” His brows furrowed in annoyance, and all Haru did was nod.

“Yeah.”

Neither boy let up for a second. Haru’s eyes were back on Rin, reveling in his gaze, his touch, and there was a lingering scent of sweat and chlorine and Rin in the air, a heady scent that Haru had come to enjoy immensely.

“What the hell for…?”

Rin struggled to speak around his breaths, which were now shorter and closer together; another good sign. Haru pumped him faster on instinct, answering him plainly as he watched Rin double over into a moan.

“It’s been three minutes.”

. . .

“…Fuckin’…”

All at once, Rin adjusted himself, going from a completely relaxed pose that looked so ready to just melt away to sitting up, and it was the first time he’d ever let go of Haru while doing this. He put his legs on both sides of Haru’s body, positioning himself as close as he comfortably could before grabbing for Haru’s erection.

They were off again, and Haru immediately understood just what had happened. This wasn’t just getting each other off; this act had crudely morphed itself into the event that they knew best.

This jack-off session had become a race.

Rin felt different now, very different. Fascinatingly, intoxicatingly different, and a low chuckle floated its way directly into Haru’s ear. Rin was grinding against him, still stroking, squeezing his thighs around Haru’s body.

“What’re you _doing_ , thinking you can… get away with that? Fuckin’  _timing me_ …?”

Haru responded with was a sigh of pleasure; how could he answer properly when Rin had started kissing his neck again? _Damn him_ , he knew too much… it felt so  _good_. And that  _voice_ , taunting him, wasn’t doing anything in terms of self-restraint, either.

“You’ve got about a minute to go yourself, Haru… tick tock.”

So that’s how it was. Haru forced himself to stay focused, pouring all his frustrations and energy into jerking him off instead. He moved to kiss Rin properly, using everything he’d learned thus far; he knew that Rin liked him to take charge every so often. Rin liked when Haru kissed the corners of his eyes. Rin  _loved_  when Haru sucked his lower lip.

He wasn’t going to lose.

The near-empty house softly echoed their hard kissed and their small gasps and moans, the quiet creak of the bed as they adjusted, the steady beat of skin on skin. Haru’s panting, Rin’s whimpers and determined curses and occasional taunts.

“Y-you know wanna give up… _come on_ … it’ll feel good.”

And then Rin would roll his hips until their cocks brushed again, and it gave them both a jolt, but Haru more so, being on whatever mental receiving end Rin had him on.

Haru stopped to swat Rin’s hand away, confusing him for a moment before nearly sending the both of them tumbling down into the abyss as Haru stroked the both their dicks at the same time, hard and quick, and Rin immediately went to embrace Haru, growing louder and much more frustrated than before.

“Fuckin’ cheat… _Haru_ …”

The harsh tone transitioned to something far more pleasant, and his hold tightened, and the sounds Haru heard directly beside him were rushing to his head, the moans and sighs and the way he spoke his name, it was all being committed to memory. And it wasn’t like Rin wasn’t getting an earful of breathy _“Rin”_ s himself.

Another forty seconds and Rin came first, though considering Haru had followed along moments later, he considered it a tie.

Haru demanded a rematch. 

* * *

He hadn’t been in public with Rin since their sexual rivalry began, and “frustrating” didn’t begin to explain how Haru felt on the train ride into town. He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to agree to a shopping trip, but as they disembarked the train he was grateful for the knee-length winter coat he’d found in the closet, because just watching Rin walk from behind was enough to send the blood rushing between his legs.

“Nuh-uh,” Rin said, slowing down for Haru to catch up. “I’m walking behind you.”

“I don’t think so.”

They walked side-by-side, which was fine on the sidewalks, but awkward when they reached the store. Rin wanted a new sweater; he insisted on Haru’s opinion, and while Haru wasn’t exactly fashion illiterate, he didn’t think Rin should care so much about what he thought.

“You should get something, too,” Rin said, browsing through the racks. He held up a deep blue cashmere sweater and held it to Haru’s chest, and it was no mistake that his fingers brushed his shoulder.

“It’s too small,” Haru protested.

But Rin draped it over Haru’s arm, anyway, insisting he try it on. After a small sigh of defeat, Haru gave in, heading to the dressing room to indulge Rin, if only so he could nip the whole “try this on” argument in the bud, and once he’d gotten it on, had to admit it didn’t look bad. Blue had always been an excellent color for him, but he knew he wasn’t going to making any purchases today. Haru didn’t have that kind of money, and even if he did, there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d be spending it all on one article of clothing that he’d only wear a few weeks out of the year.

He tore the clothing from his body once he realized how much mackerel could be bought for the price of this one sweater. Haru had his priorities straight, unlike some.

The curtain’s rungs jangled lightly as he stepped out. He was still straightening out the shirt he’d come here in, holding his folded coat under his arm. A quick glance to the floor showed Rin’s shoes (and therefore, Rin) behind the other dressing room’s curtain.

…And now he had to wait. Just perfect. He sighed, plopping down on a small bench and staring at the closed curtain with contempt, wondering again about just why he’d wanted to come along. All he felt at the moment was annoyed; annoyed and frustrated.

Rin had a nice walk. And a good fashion sense, not that that was terribly important, but Haru had to admit, people looked better in clothes that suited them—and Rin knew perfectly well what suited him. He knew when he walked down the street that he looked good… that Haru thought he looked good. That Haru was probably ogling him quietly from behind.

And with an ass like that being perfectly complemented by black skinny jeans, it was all Haru could do not to—

…

He quietly stood and took the few steps toward Rin’s dressing room and slipped inside. No, he wasn’t just going to sit there with his thoughts, not when Rin was right there. Granted, his friend looked incredibly surprised to see him so suddenly, but it was nothing more than a hushed “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” No attempts to push Haru out, just a slight startling. The space in this stall had diminished quite a bit now that that two people were sharing it, but Rin didn’t seem to mind at all.

Haru was only more annoyed when Rin turned back to the mirror and peeled off the black V-neck he’d found earlier; he didn’t know if he wanted Rin to keep it on or not.

Deliberating in broiling frustration for far too long was what made Haru slip his arms around Rin’s bare torso and start kissing him, his lips brushing at the nape of his neck. Damn him for possessing such attractiveness. It was physically paining. Damn him in that Haru could hardly think straight anymore. He felt Rin shiver under his touch, and then he heard a disgruntled huff. For a moment, Haru thought it was over, but then Rin had turned around to face him, his hands finding a comfortable place on Haru’s hips, and they were kissing, with Rin hissing a “Keep it down.”

Of course they’d have to keep it down, if Rin ever wanted to shop here again.

This was indecent, but there again, so was Rin, filling Haru’s head every minute of every hour. Public indecency was a crime, and Rin should be as well.

Rin’s hands roved up under Haru’s shirt, feeling his chest and stomach, and Haru indulged himself in giving the ass he’d been praising in his mind a firm squeeze. He was rewarded with a low, throaty moan, and he was suddenly struck with a beautiful idea, an even more indecent idea, but it was Rin, so he didn’t care.

Haru pushed him back into the corner. He kissed him hard, then soft, softer as his hands fervently worked at undoing Rin’s belt, at pulling down the jeans and boxers, and then quietly taking him in his hand. He saw Rin reaching for him, but Haru snatched that arm with his free hand and held it strong, pinning it to the wall before muttering “Watch yourself.”

Rin was facing the mirror.

He’d come here because he knew that he looked good, after all, and he wanted to look better.

Rin should see himself at his best.

The response to Haru’s words was immediate. Rin had gone from mildly aroused to fully erect in very little time, and with the way Haru was stroking and teasing him, it was a wonder that he hadn’t come already. Any time he whined or keened, Haru silenced him with a kiss; they were still in public, as much as it seemed like this dressing room was the only place on earth that mattered at the moment.

Rin was watching himself in the mirror, shaking, turned on and desperate and closer to coming undone by the second. Good. Now maybe he would understand how Haru felt.

What would have been a harsh curse was lowered down to a small hum as Haru covered Rin’s orgasm with a hard kiss, catching most of his release in his palm in the hopes that Rin still carried pocket tissues. Fortunately, he did, and it cleaned off easy, and fortunately again, Rin didn’t seem too upset about having been jerked off in public… that was good right? God, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so edgy and frustrated. He felt so much better now, at least in his mind.

After they got home, they could remedy the physical side-effects of this venture. Rin would definitely want some sort of vengeance…

Bring it on. 

* * *

Haruka Nanase was pissed off.

Not only had he gone home with a sweater—not the blue cashmere, but something else Rin had insisted matched his eyes, the smooth bastard—the sweater was the _only_ thing he’d gone home with. Rin had to return to school, leaving Haru to ride the train annoyed, a little lonely, and sexually frustrated.

It would have to be another night taking care of things himself—part of his routine now, on the nights Rin didn’t stay over—sinking into the tub, muttered to himself that he didn’t _need_ Rin, that the water was his only true comfort.

And Rin didn’t return the next night, either. Haru gripped his cell phone in both hands, staring at Rin’s number, but refused to contact him. What the hell would he say? Any queries over whether he’d come over that night held underlying tones; it wasn’t that Haru _missed_ him, but the nights were cold and his bed growing colder with each moment Rin wasn’t lying in it.

When Haru finally heard the rattle of the front door one evening, he knew. There was a distinct way Rin opened the door, a little too forcefully, like he’d tear it from the track.

Haru jogged down the stairs to see Rin removing his shoes in the entryway. “Where have you been?”

Rin lifted an eyebrow. “Miss me, baby?”

But before Haru could try to deny it Rin was there, his hands on Haru’s ass, his lips smothering his neck. Haru yelped in surprise when Rin lifted him but threw his legs around Rin’s hips for balance, feeling his firm grip on his ass.

“I missed _you_ ,” Rin murmured, squeezing his ass tighter, groaning when Haru scraped his nails down his back. He was mildly surprised when Rin carried him up the stairs, but also wasn’t surprised at all. Rin Matsuoka was unpredictable, always full of surprises, both in the water and in bed.

 _You didn’t answer my question_ , Haru wanted to say, as Rin dropped him to the bed, pulling off his track pants in one smooth motion. _Where have you been?_ his mind shouted, as his hands fumbled at Rin’s belt. But instead he rolled out from beneath him, throwing Rin to his back, catching the flash of surprise on Rin’s face before trailing his lips down his body.

 _What a body_. Haru squeezed his pecs, taking care not to miss his sensitive nipples; he ran his tongue down the groove of his stomach, so smooth and hairless. He still had that faint trail of hair beneath his belly button, leading downward, and Haru followed it. Rin gripped his shoulders harder when Haru kissed the tip of his cock, elated when Rin cried out in surprise as he took him into his mouth.

“Give me some warning!” Rin shouted, his body jerking in response. “Fucking hell…”

It was delightfully obvious how bad Rin was holding back. His body hardly moved at all, his muscles stiff to Haru’s touch. He gripped hard to the sheets with one hand, the other pulling at Haru’s hair, but he didn’t mind. And though Haru’s jaw was already sore—Rin’s dick was a lot thicker than he thought—he kept going, coming up only to take a deep breath before going down again.

 _Fuck_ , he tasted good. It wasn’t like when Haru sucked on Rin’s lips or his fingers. It was a little clammy from being confined within his underwear or a swimsuit, but his sweat was salty and still smelled of chlorine. Rin went still and Haru glanced up, loving how Rin _wouldn’t look at him_ , eyes wide open to the ceiling as he took gasping breaths.

Haru wasn’t surprised that Rin didn’t warn him, but he knew it was coming. He understood Rin’s body enough to know when he was about to come, even if Rin stubbornly never told him. Haru gagged as he sat up, Rin’s cum swirling in his mouth, and held up a hand to be excused as he rushed to the bathroom to spit it out.

It tasted _foul_ , but it was worth it to see Rin writhing in his bed. Haru stopped in the kitchen to drink one glass of water after another to wash down the taste.

“You’ll pay for that,” Rin said when he returned, still sprawled naked where Haru had left him. “And I’m not gonna warn you, either.”

“Try me.” 

* * *

Haru hadn’t necessarily _forgotten_ about joint practice. But when the front door rattled open and Makoto called his name up the stairs, the bedroom was a flurry of clothes as Rin and Haru both fumbled to get dressed.

“Coming!” Haru called, and Rin held back a snort of laughter.

“I thought you only said that to me,” Rin said, zipping his white uniform to the neck.

He shoved Rin toward the bedroom door. “I never tell you.”

If Makoto was surprised Rin was there, he didn’t show it. It was hard to miss how often Rin came to visit, and it wasn’t exactly a secret. “It’s nice to see you two spending so much time together,” Makoto had said once before school, as Rin had rushed off for the train. Haru didn’t mention how that receding body had just been wrapped around his, or how he’d had a companion in the tub that morning, or how he’d came no less than three times since the night before.

Those mornings were okay, because Rin was leaving. Now, they walked together, with Rin talking incessantly about nothing at all. Haru walked behind them for a while, studying the way Rin’s uniform fit his body. Did they get them specially fitted? How could a pair of pants look so perfect on those legs? But Rin had slowed down for Haru to catch up, throwing an arm around his shoulders like that arm hadn’t been around him all night.

They sat too close on the train. Rin was being a pain and wouldn’t put his bag in the overhead compartment, insistent on holding it on his lap.

“Then keep it on _your_ lap,” Haru said, shoving it off his own thigh.

“C’mon, Haru,” Rin said, repositioning the bag. “It’ll fall into the aisle if you do that.”

Makoto sat across from them, and though Haru silently pleaded with him he only chuckled at their banter. “It’s not a long ride,” he said, as Rin’s bag fell into Haru’s lap again.

But Haru didn’t trust him. One of Rin’s arms was slung over the bag, holding it in place, but the other was concealed behind it. And no matter how close Haru moved to the window Rin moved closer, as if making room for an invisible passenger.

Rin’s body was _burning_. It may have been the suit, or the heat of the train, but Haru’s thigh absorbed the fire of Rin’s touch. And it didn’t help that Rin was casually talking to Makoto, like his hand wasn’t wandering to Haru’s thigh.

Haru clamped his teeth, turning to the window while crossing his legs.

 _That_ didn’t work. He inwardly cursed his erection, pinching Rin’s hand as he crept closer.

“Are you okay, Haru?” Makoto asked, and the hand disappeared.

He replied with a clipped, “Fine.”

But when Makoto watched the landscape pass out the window, Haru wasn’t surprised to feel Rin again. And, curse it all to hell, he _enjoyed_ it. Rin leaned against his bag, nudging it farther onto Haru’s lap, his fingers tickling the inside of Haru’s thigh. _You’ll pay for that_ , Rin had said. But was it payback if Haru _wanted_ it? This was more public than the dressing room, and Makoto was sitting _right there_ , but Haru wanted that hand between his legs more than he wanted the pool waiting for him at Samezuka.

His heart rate shot up, cheeks tinged pink, holding his breath when Rin leaned over to point at something outside. While Makoto looked for whatever it was Rin insisted he should see, Rin glanced at Haru’s reddened face as his hand brushed his cock.

 _Fuck him_ , Haru thought, hating how good it felt. Rin stroked him with only one finger, slowly, the pressure building between his legs. It wasn’t enough—he wanted _all_ of him—but it was enough to send a shudder up his spine. Goose bumps prickled under his sleeves as he stared at his lap, fascinated by Rin’s hand, watching his easy, steady strokes. Rin played at his fly, zipping it down just enough to slide a finger inside. Rin rolled his eyes, and Haru knew it wasn’t because of whatever Makoto was talking about—Rin felt only Haru’s jammers within his trousers.

Samezuka’s stop came too quickly, the train sighing into the station. “We’re here!” Rin said, springing to his feet, and Haru quickly crossed his arms across his lap.

“Get my bag,” he said, staring up at Rin.

“Get it yourself!”

“Here you go, Haru,” Makoto said, pulling his bag from the overhead compartment. At least it was long enough to cover his bulging crotch when he stood, mumbling a thanks as Rin skipped off down the aisle.

When they got to campus, Haru made a show of avoiding Rin in the locker room. How could he watch Rin undress, knowing it wasn’t for him? It felt like an age since they’d last gone swimming, since they’d shed their clothes for the water and not for each other. Rin whistled to himself as he turned his back to them, snapping the band of his legskins as he pulled them up. Haru sighed, draping a towel over his shoulders as they head for the pool.

But he couldn’t stop _watching_. The pool was spread out before them, calm and inviting, but Haru’s eyes were glued to Rin’s backside, watching his shoulder blades shift as he walked. It wasn’t like he’d never seen him naked before. Rin mounted the starting block, pale and exposed, his skin glistening in the light through the skylights. Haru looked away, dropping his towel on a bench as Rin dived into the water, relieved that he was temporarily gone from his line of vision.

“Haru,” Makoto said warily, his eyes flicking to his chest. “What happened?”

Haru glanced down. It wasn’t just his chest—tiny bruises dotted his hips and neck, and in the dip of his pecs. Red and yellow spots on his winter-white skin, products of Rin’s lips and teeth. He shivered, remembering the drag of those lips across his stomach.

“It was Rin,” he simply replied. What would be the point of lying to Makoto?

“Rin?” Makoto’s eyes swept the pool, searching for him. “Did you get in a fight?”

“No.”

Rin then pulled himself from the pool, shaking out his arms as he caught his breath. Haru was pleased to see the marks on his body, too, more evident now than when he’d seen them in the dark of night. Now that he didn’t wear his school uniform, the mark on the side of his neck was wonderfully prominent. And over his chest and stomach, too, a nice dark blossom right below his belly button.

 _Fuck_ , it was beautiful. Rin had been hot before but now it was unbearable, his perfect skin marred by Haru’s incessant lips.

“H-Haru…”

So Makoto had realized. Fine. What was the point of winning if no one witnessed the victory? Rin smirked as he looked at them, but suddenly paled when he saw how Makoto stared. He quickly turned away.

“Are you…?”

If Makoto knew the intricacies of reading Haru, the opposite was also true. And Haru didn’t know how to answer the unasked question. _“We’re fucking around”_ didn’t seem right, and they definitely weren’t dating. Haru watched Rin talk to one of his teammates, his back to them. He could think of nothing but the feel of those thighs, wanted at that moment to tease the soft spot between them.

“We’re competing,” Haru replied, already knowing that Makoto would be dissatisfied with any answer. He finally head for the pool to dive in himself.

The water cooled him. He hadn’t realized how badly his skin burned until he was beneath the cool water, like a drop of water sizzling on a hot griddle. He didn’t want to come up but he forced his body to move, swimming clear across the pool and back, then going for another lap.

Haru was vaguely aware of seeing Rin in his lane. It didn’t exactly register—no one was supposed to be there—and he didn’t stop fast enough, smacking Rin’s chest rather than the wall when he stopped.

“Oi!” Rin said, rubbing his chest. “Not in front of the team!”

The few people who heard nearby laughed, but proceeded to ignore them. Had they noticed their matching marks, too? Haru glanced up at Makoto, standing at poolside with Mikoshiba, and even though they were talking he saw Makoto glancing toward them. Haru looked away.

“You’re in my way,” he said, floating closer to Rin.

His brain protested their proximity— _you’re too close; the others will see—_ but his body moved on its own, drifting toward him as Rin’s hand found his hip beneath the water, his fingers crawling toward—

Haru jerked away.

He only wanted to swim. He didn’t want to think of Rin, or any part of him. His body was ridiculous, Haru decided, as he swam away. It was too sculpted, too fit for a seventeen-year-old. Its movements were too flawless, in the way he swam and the way he walked, even the way he squirmed under Haru’s touch. His head tilted back, the slight pant from his soft lips, his dick long and hard in Haru’s hands…

Haru came up, gasping for air. And Rin was still right there, now hovering behind him, locking his arms around Haru and leaning against the edge of the pool.

“What are you doing?” Haru asked. He’d tried to sound annoyed but it came out curious, like they were the only ones in the pool.

“Talking to you,” Rin replied, his breath on Haru’s ear, his knee rubbing his ass where the others couldn’t see. Haru pressed closer to the wall, pretending to catch his breath after a hard swim. He felt Rin’s eyes on the side of his face, his knee pushing farther between his legs.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Haru said, though pushed his ass back against him.

Rin’s laugh was low and hoarse and, Haru hated to admit, a little sexy. “I’m not the one reacting.”

Rin didn’t know how true that statement was—Haru _couldn’t_ get out of the water now, with the obvious swell in his swim trunks. He sighed in frustration, shoving Rin away as he swam again. And he wouldn’t get out until he’d calmed down.

It was impossible. He knew practice was over, though it wasn’t uncommon for him to be the last out of the pool. Makoto and Rin were waiting right outside the locker room, but when Haru finally popped his head up they didn’t notice him right away. They were talking, Makoto with that concerned look on his face, Rin smiling and laughing off whatever his concern was. Haru didn’t want to get involved. He waited until Rin pacified him, clapping him on the shoulder, and Makoto nodded in relief before heading for the lockers. Rin cocked an eyebrow at the pool.

“Wanna race?” he asked, flipping his towel over his shoulder.

“No.” Haru looked around. They were the only ones there, and as much as his groin _wanted_ Rin in the water, it was too public. Too risky.

But Rin laughed. “I’ll stay in my own lane, I promise. C’mon, we didn’t get a proper race.”

In the back of his mind, Haru was aware that his acceptance was stalling. Maybe, if they swam long enough, the locker room would be empty. He wouldn’t have to avoid Rin’s hands as they changed. He watched Rin jog up to the pool, then dive in without warning. He was already swimming his lap, but Haru watched. Finally, with no one else in the pool, it was safe to watch Rin.

He was swimming freestyle, probably to taunt him. Expecting Haru to follow. But instead, he watched. The way his shoulder blades rippled, the way his strong legs kicked the water. When Rin returned, he seemed unsurprised that Haru hadn’t moved from his spot.

“Is this all it takes to get you off?” Rin crossed his arms on the lane divider, leaning forward. “My perfect body in the water?”

Haru looked away, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. “Are we going to swim?”

But he was frustrated. They were swimming, but he wasn’t focused on the water. His movements felt stiff and choppy; he knew Rin was pulling ahead of him and Haru pushed harder, making himself catch up. The water did little to alleviate the burn beneath his skin, his shaking limbs. When they were done they swam again, not even knowing who had won, as was often the case when a third party wasn’t timing them. They were always evenly matched—in the pool, and now in the bedroom. Always competing. Always one step behind the other. Always running to catch up.

When Haru tried to pull himself from the pool, Rin went back on his promise—he quickly ducked beneath the lane divider, grabbing onto Haru’s legs to pull him back in.

“Stay in your lane!” Haru cried, as Rin spun him around, pressing his erection to Haru’s leg.

Rin shrugged. “No one’s here.”

Kissing Rin in the pool was even better than Haru had imagined.

He hadn’t _let_ himself imagine it—it was overwhelming, having _that body_ in the water. His hands trailed over Rin’s back as they kissed, mouths open and tongues exploring. He cupped Rin’s ass, grinding against him as Rin’s leg wound around his back. His swelling arousal _hurt_ in the confines of his swimsuit. He grinded against Rin harder, moaning low in his throat, feeling Rin’s nails dig into his spine.

There were no words as they got out of the water. Rin glanced at Haru’s crotch then grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward the locker room, and Haru didn’t resist.

They began to kiss again as they disappeared into the empty locker room, stumbling into benches and walls as they blindly groped each other. Rin broke away only briefly to ensure the room was, in fact, completely empty, as it was.

“What did you say to Makoto?” Haru said, before Rin could kiss him again.

Rin was nudging him toward the showers, already pulling down Haru’s jammers. Haru hated how quickly he sighed in relief, having been released from the confines of his swimsuit. “I told him we’re just playing around,” he said, crouching to slide off Haru’s jammers. He grasped Haru’s cock as he came back up. “Roughhousing. You know.”

“I _don’t_ know,” he gasped, as Rin’s lips met his neck.

“Whatever he believes,” Rin said, leading him toward the showers, “it got him to go home without you, right? You don’t see anyone hanging around?”

Was it lying? Was he lying to his best friend? Haru shook his head. _We’re just playing around_. It was such a vague phrase that had no meaning. Haru backed into a shower but Rin grunted, pulling him back only to push him onto a bench. Rin was instantly on the floor, kneeling between his legs, kissing his stomach as he continued to stroke his cock.

“Stop thinking about him,” Rin said, the disgust laced in his voice. He flicked the tip of Haru’s cock with his tongue. “I’m about to blow you. Stop thinking of fucking _Makoto_.”

“I’m not thinking of fucking Makoto.”

Rin laughed his deep, throaty laugh, fondling Haru’s balls until he groaned, watching his face before going down on him.

 _Oh, fuck._ Haru instantly held to Rin’s shoulders, gripping them hard. _Fuck, it feels good_.

It was too good. Rin’s mouth was damp, slowly bobbing up and down, his damp hair cascaded over his face and the water dripping to his skin. Rin closed his eyes and Haru felt how he widened his mouth, trying to take all of him in. Haru could only watch, transfixed.

There was Rin, between his thighs. His dick was in Rin’s mouth, that tongue pressed to his shaft. Haru groaned, doubling over, breathing in the overwhelming chlorine scent of Rin’s hair.

Rin came up for breath, massaging his jaw as he looked at Haru. He was _right there_ , close enough to kiss, and Rin inclined his head to meet his lips. Haru’s own taste was on his lips, the damp of his own skin, and he wasn’t as disgusted as he thought he would be.

“Don’t hold back,” Rin whispered, jerking him with his hands as he kissed Haru again. “You never know when someone could come in.”

Haru’s hips twitched. “Then suck harder.”

Haru held back a whimper when he did, with Rin’s tongue wound around the tip of his cock, his hands pulling at the base. There was nothing hotter at that moment than Rin’s head between his legs, not even the flush of his own skin, the burning of his nerves.

He didn’t tell Rin he was going to come. But, like himself, he suspected that Rin knew. Haru twined his fingers through Rin’s hair, going still the moment before he spilled himself into Rin’s mouth. It wasn’t a mind-blowing orgasm, but it was satisfying, leaving his chest heaving as Rin spat into the nearby shower.

“Rinse that down,” Haru said, watching him wipe his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I’m not an idiot.”

They didn’t watch each other dress. They didn’t even face each other, back to back as they bundled up. It was too warm in the locker room for their coats but the air outside was freezing. When Haru finally turned to Rin, he couldn’t stop staring at his lips. Those lips, that had just been around his cock. That he’d kissed so many times. That he only wanted again, wanted _more_ , wanted without ceasing. 

* * *

Rin could have stayed at school. It made sense, as they passed his dorm on their way out, but Rin completely ignored it. Haru wanted to ask if it was okay, if he needed permission to leave. But he didn’t, and they walked out the gates without question. They walked to the train station in silence, boarded without a word. Rin didn’t even try to touch him on the ride to Iwatobi, which was both relieving and disappointing. Haru’s body still tingled with the ghost of Rin’s hands and his mouth, but his groin still pulsed in anticipation.

But when they returned to Haru’s house they hadn’t even gone past the foyer before Haru grabbed for him, brushing the bulge in Rin’s pants as they tore off their coats. His fingers played at the front of Rin’s trousers, but Rin didn’t make an effort to stop him. If anything he leaned closer, breath heavy on Haru’s cheek. No, Rin wouldn’t jerk away—he knew that more than anything now, with the way Rin pressed to his chest, rolling his hips against Haru’s hand.

“Haru,” he breathed, as Haru unzipped his fly, now feeling the soft, worn cotton of his trunks. “Not fair.” His fingers played at Haru’s erection, smirking against the corner of Haru’s mouth as he popped open the button of his jeans.

“Wait, Rin—!”

He didn’t wait. He was so damn _impatient_ , wanting to constantly one-up Haru, making sure he never came out ahead. Making sure Haru was never better at him in anything, never had an unfair advantage. But when he unzipped Haru’s fly, slowly, one set of teeth at a time, he smiled. “Fucking jammers,” he said, slipping both hands into Haru’s jeans to push them down around his ass. “Can’t make it easy for me, eh?”

His pants were already around his thighs as he pushed Rin from the foyer. He was already at an unfair advantage himself, with only Rin’s fly open; Haru shoved him against the wall, sucking and biting Rin’s lips as he pushed down his pants and his underwear at the same time. Haru knew his own shirt would be next and Rin nearly tore the fabric getting it off, tossing it toward the stairs.

They wouldn’t make it to the bedroom. Haru didn’t want to climb those stairs and risk _not touching Rin_ , not having every inch of Rin’s naked skin pressed against his own. He eyed the stairs, wondering if they could do what needed to be done right there, but there was only one place Haru needed to have Rin. If he had the strength he would’ve _carried_ him to the shower—to the source of water—but instead he walked backward as they continued discarding clothes, arms and lips and legs wound around every available inch of the other’s body, and by the time they got to the shower they were both naked, already panting, and unbearably hard.

Rin didn’t have to ask—he twisted the faucet and the showerhead sprung to life. Haru tilted his head back to feel the spray on his face, still cold, but he was already warmed by the feel of Rin’s everything against him.

They kissed hard, Rin’s tongue nearly down his throat, Rin’s hands grabbing his ass and forcing their hips to collide. Haru dug his nails into Rin’s shoulders and he shuddered when Haru broke the skin, small beads of blood on his winter-white skin. And he knew better than to complain about the nails on his back, digging deep into the base of his spine.

He’d been with Rin in the water innumerable times, swimming together, competing against each other. His whole friendship with Rin had been surrounded by the water and it was only right, now, that Haru had him alone, in his shower, like it was all they’d worked up to. Like all the nights experimenting together led up to this singular point, the point where they shared the water, no longer Haru and Rin but one new being, reading each other and knowing the other’s needs as he needed it.

And Haru didn’t hold back—oh, he’d had plenty of occasions that he’d tease Rin to frustration, and watching him grit his teeth or pull on the bed sheets only heightened Haru’s excitement as well. But he was passed that—they’d competed, and they’d plateaued, but there was one final test to ensure he came out in front.

He knelt before Rin, bracing himself against the slick tile floor, careful not to slip. Rin steadied his back to the wall as Haru teased the insides of his thighs, licked the water off his chiseled abs. There was a shift in Rin at that moment—Haru had grown accustomed to his condescending chuckle, the jabs and taunts over how he could do better. But when he looked up the plane of Rin’s chest he saw right away that Rin wasn’t smirking, nor did he say anything. He leaned back, panting, gently holding the crown of Haru’s head. Haru massaged his thighs—solid, firm—sliding both hands around to his ass, gently spreading his cheeks.

Rin didn’t react, not at first. Not until Haru stood again, keeping one hand on his ass as he stroked his cock. He couldn’t deny how hot Rin looked at that moment— _sexy_ —his head tilted back exposing his throat, his impossibly perfect chest thrust forward.

There were times someone would ask Haru about a girlfriend, though he’d never expressed interest in having one. Neither did he want a boyfriend. He understood now, more than anything, that he only wanted Rin.

He was in unfamiliar territory; he was working on feelings he’d never felt. Haru had been turned on before—he’d never admit aloud what water truly did for him—and Rin had stirred reactions in him that he hadn’t previous understood. But this wasn’t mere sexual frustration or a boner at the pool; Haru was fucking _aroused;_ he wanted everything, and he wanted it with the man who now stood naked in his shower.

He moved on instinct. He ran his tongue around Rin’s pecs, sucking on both his nipples. He reached beneath his cock to massage his balls, already knowing the groan that would emerge. He slid a hand between his ass, one finger stroking that spot he so desperately wanted to enter.

“Haru!” Rin cried out when Haru slipped a finger inside him, squirming as he dug his nails into Haru’s skin.

Haru waited. He waited for Rin to refuse, but he didn’t. He stood still, breathing heavily, his head leaned over Haru’s shoulder. So Haru moved—he slowly moved that finger, feeling Rin from within. He felt _good_. Water was a poor lubricant but it was a constant stream, helping him to move around easily. He was so firm and so _tight_ , but Haru was patient. He may have been fucking aroused, hitching his cock against Rin’s, but he could wait. He could make sure Rin was comfortable, that he remained unhurt.

Haru adjusted the position of his hand, making it easier to push another finger inside. Rin gasped, clutching him harder. His felt Rin’s pulse accelerate and he waited for Rin’s okay to move, to stretch him further.

“Haru, wait.” Rin took hold of Haru’s forearm, panting as he gently pushed him back and out from within him. “Please stop.”

Haru froze, a hand on Rin’s hip, but slowly backed away. It was strange now, not touching him. Having his body so close and being forbidden to feel it. He listened to the steady pound of water on the tiles, watched the water stream between them. He was staring at Rin’s chest, he realized, and forced himself to look up.

He instantly regretted it.

Rin leaned back against the wall, staring at Haru through the spray of the shower, eyebrows knitted in pain. No, it wasn’t pain—Haru hadn’t hurt him, thank the gods—Rin Matsuoka was _scared_ , his eyes roving over Haru’s body in surprise like he’d never seen it before. He lowered his head, his hair falling over his eyes, and in that moment Haru knew that something had gone _terribly wrong_.

Finally Rin turned off the water, and they heard only the deafening drip of the showerhead splashing onto the wet tile floor. Rin breathed in deep as he looked up, his arms shaking as he crossed them across his stomach.

“Haru . . . we need to talk.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was too cold to swim.

Rin knew it, but he still found himself wandering toward the Iwatobi pool. It had been easy to hide away at Samezuka during the winter—not that he was _hiding_ , per se—but come the warmer months of spring, he was bored. He found himself going home more often, not that his mother or sister minded, but he didn’t spend a lot of time at the house.

Actually, he spent a lot of time near Haru’s house.

Not _at_ , just . . . near.

Haru never noticed, as far as Rin knew, but Makoto had caught him by the stairs a couple times. He hadn’t asked, which only embarrassed Rin more. It meant that he _knew_ , that he’d fulfilled his role of best friend by offering advice regarding an awkward situation. But Makoto didn’t say anything about it, and he didn’t act any different.

But the hard truth was, Rin and Haru hadn’t spent anytime alone since . . . said awkward situation.

They hadn’t _avoided_ each other—they all still hung out as a group, and Rin tried not to act weird—but they didn’t have their customary after-practice races, and Rin _definitely_ hadn’t slept over. Even when the Iwatobi group spent the night at Haru’s house, Rin conveniently had other plans. He tried not to be offended at Haru’s relief every time he declined.

Everything about he and Haru had fallen apart in seconds, but that made him wonder . . . what the hell was “everything” anyway? What exactly constituted “everything” for Haruka Nanase and Rin Matsuoka? Honestly, not much. It was the truth. Taking the years apart, condensing them into months, they'd really only been around one another for . . . God, only a little over a year. One collective year. Those few months when they were kids, combined with this whirlwind of year with Rin finally being back in Japan . . . and then recently?

Yeah. Just a bit over a year.

Of course, they'd been aware of each other for nearly years, now. Rin had thought about Haru every single day during their time apart, and back then, he wasn't even sure if “Nanase” considered him a friend.

He was facing that very same dilemma right now, recollecting every race, every cold word and warm touch, every single moment that the trust between them built higher and higher, finally letting each other in.

But he still didn't know what Haru _was_ to him. What had he ever been to Rin? A rival? A friend?

They’d gone too far to call it mere “friendship.” They knew far too much about each other now. They'd shared so much, and it wasn't about the handjobs or the races or whatever the fuck else they'd attempted purely out of desperation and need.

He told himself that he was wandering near Iwatobi High School because the sakura trees were in bloom. He’d snapped a few pictures with his phone, too, to solidify the excuse. But when his eyes wandered toward the pool, and he saw the huddled figure sitting by poolside, he knew his excuses were flimsy.

 

_“Haru . . . we need to talk.”_

_Rin couldn’t see his eyes. Already he’d lowered his head, his dark mess of hair concealing his expression. He hadn’t released Haru’s arm yet, nor did he want to, because the moment his fingers slid away he knew he’d never touch him again._

_“Sorry,” Haru whispered._

 

“Haru?”

His head perked up. He watched Rin’s shadow stretch onto the deck, then dip into the pool’s watery reflection. Haru turned back to the water, away from him. “Hey.”

“I’m surprised you’re not in the water.”

He rested his head on his folded knees. “It’s too cold to swim.”

By God, Haru was beautiful.

 

_Haru’s hand on his hip, his breath on his mouth._

_The quick flash of his eyes as he inched closer, wrapping their bodies around each other._

_Rin had wanted to ask. “What are you doing?” was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want to stop him. He wanted to see how far Haru would go. And when he’d kissed him, Rin’s insides instantly melted. His lips were warm and his body was warm, and Haru’s hands were on his body, and . . ._

 

Rin crouched to dip a hand into the pool.

The water was fucking _cold_ , and he quickly pulled it out, shaking droplets from his fingertips. Haru smirked as he looked away.

“I told you,” he said, as Rin wiped his hand on his jeans. “You can sit, if you want.”

It was a start. Sitting beside Haru, not too close. But still closer than they’d been in months. Rin glanced at him— no, he glanced at his neck. At that sweet spot on his throat, the place that made Haru lose his reservations when it was touched. Fingers trailed on his neck, teeth nipping at his skin . . .

 _Cut it out, Rin_. He stared up into the blinding sun.

Haru was infuriatingly attractive. This wasn’t news; Rin had always thought he was a good-looking guy, annoyingly so. He didn’t care about his looks, or about working out; he was _naturally_ attractive, unlike everyone else. Unlike Rin, who had to _work_ to maintain his physique. He’d seen Haru in a swimsuit countless times, but it was different now. Different because Rin had seen him sprawled naked in bed; different because he’d spread his legs for him in the Samezuka locker room.

 _Fuck_ , that was an image he didn’t need. It wasn’t like he thought of Haru every damn time he went into the locker room showers, anyway.

 

 _His legs looked beautiful without his jammers. He looked beautiful_ with _them, but there was a raw intimacy in his pale, naked skin. Never mind the fact his knees were spread apart, his erection waiting for Rin’s hands, for his mouth._

_It was disgusting, sucking him off in the locker room. But Rin couldn’t stop, not when Haru’s body twitched, when he gripped his shoulder. Not when Rin had looked up, meeting his glassy-eyed gaze . . ._

 

Rin shook his head. He tried not to stare at Haru, but just sort of took brief glances.

. . . Ugh. What the hell was wrong with him? Haru was Haru. There was no in-between or category to shove Haru into; he was in his own category. Even if they'd only known each other for a collective year, somehow, this unfairly beautiful asshole next to him was someone who _got_ Rin. Who understood him. And Rin didn't know how the hell that had happened, because as far as he could remember, his communication skills with Haru were pretty piss-poor up until recently.

. . .

He needed to stop thinking about “recently.”

But he couldn't.

There was absolutely no way to get Haru out of his head. He’d been stuck in his mind since the day they'd . . . what, broken up? They hadn't even been dating. They'd just been clawing at each other like animals in heat and stealing kisses when their friends weren't looking and basically living with each other for—

. . .

Why wasn't he saying anything? Haru being quiet, that was one thing, but Rin couldn't recall ever being this mentally fried. He always had something to say, especially to Haru. Damn it! What the fuck was he supposed to say when the only images in his mind were of Haru's lips wrapped around his finger, taunting him with his eyes like only he could. Of Haru’s cock, closer than he ever thought it would be, waiting for his mouth. Of the flash of his eyes, his awe every time Rin bared his body. Completely mesmerizing him without saying a word.

What was there even to say? _“Hey. How's it goin'? Don't feel too bad about trying to finger me in your shower.”_ Rin sighed heavily.

Well he had to say _something_.

 

_“Watch yourself.”_

_Rin had closed his eyes at first, but when he stared at the dressing room mirror in a daze, he realized how firmly his own bare, muscular arm clung to Haru’s shoulders._

_Oh, he was watching—Haru had stepped aside just enough so Rin could see himself, could see Haru pumping his cock. It was a fucking turn-on, watching Haru work. Even when Haru kissed him Rin kept his eyes half-open, staring around the curve of his head, deep into his own reflection._

 

"You been here long?" Rin asked.

 _Fuck_ , that sounded stupid. _Come on, Rin, you could have phrased that better_.

At least Haru glanced up, though he looked as confused as Rin felt. But his face resumed its typical impassive state as he shrugged, staring back at the cold, shimmering water. “Not really.”

Rin dipped a hand into the water again, more for something to do, not realizing Haru had done the same. They both froze, the cold shock roping through their veins, neither wanting to move first and acknowledge the mirrored movements.

Well, that was just like them.

Instead, Rin flicked Haru’s hand with a splash of water, which was a little flirty, and breathed a sigh of relief when Haru did the same. Rin pulled his hand from the water and shook it out, feeling the blood circulate again.

Though Haru was fully clothed—a surprise, considering their proximity to the pool—Rin remembered. He wasn’t too muscular, but he was toned. Perfectly toned; a perfect swimmer’s body. With his perfect skin. He remembered how his handprints would stand out against that skin, red against pale white, if he ever gripped him a little too tightly. How it felt to clutch his hair between his fingers when Haru went down on him, those dark strands that would probably hold the faint scent of chlorine forever.

Oh God, and the smell. The chlorine and the sweat and the skin, the different scents of different shampoos and “essential oils,” or whatever the hell Haru had in his bathroom. Everything merged into one, pleasant, absolutely appetizing aroma that was simply Haru. If it could be bottled it'd make billions, Rin just knew.

He could faintly smell him now. It was amazing how close Rin was to him, and yet he'd never felt farther away in his life.

“Haru . . . I . . .”

He hated how quickly Haru picked his head up. Was that hope in his eyes? Fear? He was so fucking hard to read. But the expression quickly softened into something more neutral, something more suited to Haru. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said.

“We can’t just _leave_ it like that!” Rin cried. “Haru, this . . . what _is_ this?”

“It’s a tie.”

Rin studied his unfairly beautiful face, but knew he’d never be able to simply _read_ the explanation. “What is?”

He turned away, and Rin partially wished that he hadn’t. He _wanted_ to look at Haru’s face. He wanted to _try_ to understand him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oi. Haru. I don’t care about that anymore.”

It was a blatant lie, and Haru knew it—if he’d believed him for even a second, he would’ve turned around to face him again. What was Rin _doing_? Trying to make him feel better?

 

_He’d gone back to school damp and confused. His clothes clung awkwardly to his skin. He hadn’t bothered to dry off before getting dressed, before leaving Haru’s house for what felt like the last time. He stared at his phone the entire ride to Samezuka, trying to think of one single fucking thing to say. His ass felt tender, and he didn’t want to sit. He crossed his legs, shifting in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position._

_He snorted. Discomfort was going to be a part of his life for a while._

 

Rin still wondered if he should’ve done it. Could he have sex with Haru? He’d seriously considered it at the time, with Haru’s dripping-wet body in the shower, his finger already prodding around inside Rin. It had been fucking uncomfortable, but a little erotic.

Fine, _really_ erotic.

And this was _Haru_. Rin trusted him, so why _shouldn’t_ his first time be with Haru? It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it, and more so through that whirlwind week they’d barely kept their clothes on around each other.

But still . . .

 

_“Haru, wait. Please stop.”_

 

Rin could’ve changed his mind. But he hadn’t.

Even though he kind of wanted to.

The line between love and lust was a faint one, and Rin didn’t think he’d ever experienced either. He glanced at Haru, who still stared at some indistinct spot over the fence. Unconsciously Rin lifted his arm, hovered near Haru’s shoulders, but then set it down to lean back on his hands.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it all; this was _wrong_ , this was _so_ wrong, this was _Haru_. Why did he have to feel like this about _Haru_? The one person he thought he could feel completely safe around, that he could be completely open and honest with, the closest friend he'd ever had, and now he couldn't even put his arm around him. Something he'd done since they were kids. A gesture so _them_ it had came second-nature to Rin. He was next to Haru? Might as well be as close as possible.

And now just the thought of _touching_ him made Rin feel so conflicted that it ached. It hurt to _not_ have his arm around him, but he knew it would probably end badly. It could so easily be misconstrued, couldn't it? Misconstrued into what? Forgiveness? Acceptance? Rin didn't even know what his own feelings were, let alone Haru's.

 

_“You’re so annoying.”_

_Haru had pouted, but didn’t shake Rin off his shoulders. It was so good to be with the old team again—his friends—and the moment Rin had stepped onto Iwatobi’s pool deck, his arm was around Haru’s shoulders. Like it had always been there; like it had never left._

_“How ’bout a kiss, Nanase?” he teased, pursing his lips, laughing when Haru rolled his eyes._

 

God, he just wanted to rip his hair out.

They were idiots. They were both complete idiots to think they could get away with doing so much without consequence. Of _course_ one of them was going to get attached; Rin had just never expected it to be Haru. Of all people. _Haruka fucking Nanase_ , getting emotional and invested and attached to something that wasn't water. Some _one_. He thought hell would've frozen over before anything like that happened . . . but it had. That's what Rin assumed, anyway. Why else would Haru have tried doing what he did? And then stopped? And then kept his distance for months afterward?

Was he scared, too?

 

_“If you were a girl,” Nagisa had said, “which one of us would you date?”_

_“What is_ with _guys and this question?” Rin replied. His first sleepover with Iwatobi, and he was basking in the center of attention. His eyes swept the small group, studying each of them in turn. As if seriously considering it._

_“Me,” Haru replied, as Rin’s eyes fell on him._

_“Hell no!” He laughed. “Makoto is definitely wife material.”_

 

All Rin knew now was that everything was different. Everything felt different, and wrong, and now he couldn't even put his arm around his friend anymore.

 

He dared a glance at Haru and was immediately stunned to the point that he nearly gasped. Haru was looking at him, not quite with purpose so much as just . . . watching. How long had he been staring? What was on his mind? He had his “default” face on, that stupid closed-mouth, blank look listless eyes, as if he were bored . . . damn it, _what the hell was he thinking_?! It pissed Rin off so much, _infuriated_ him, because even when he couldn't get a single clue about Haru, he was still absolutely perfect and beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to stop feeling like this.

Even worse, he couldn't look away from that beautiful face.

He didn't even want to kiss him . . . or did he? Rin had no idea. He just wanted to be able to look at him without feeling this impending sense of dread, as if he _weren't_ afraid Haru would say something devastating . . . did he want to kiss him? Date him? Completely break all ties with him? No, not that last one; of course not. He could never willingly leave Haru. Rin would rather abandon his Olympic dream than ever have Haru out of his life.

Plus, with Haru, who said he couldn't have both?

Finally, blessedly, Haru looked away, his eyes drifting over the pool's icy water. Rin looked over him quietly before following his gaze, his hands clenching against the concrete.

Say something.

Say _anything_ , damn it.

. . .

And then he felt the space beside him shrink, and when he turned, noticed that Haru had moved closer, still expressionless, still watching the water ripple quietly before them.

It was the smallest of gestures, almost unnoticeable, but Rin was hyperaware of this environment, of Haru, that it seemed like a massive leap of faith, like one of his absolutely beautiful dives, proud and free.

And then he did it again, just a small scoot closer, until their hips were nearly touching, and Rin's breath caught in his throat before he realized exactly what Haru was “saying.”

It was slow, very hesitant, just in case he'd misunderstood, but when Haru only watched Rin put his arm over his shoulders, not reacting or so much as _blinking_ , Rin knew he'd been right. He'd been absolutely right, thank _God_ , and he resisted the urge to hold him just a bit tighter.

What was Rin Matsuoka to Haruka Nanase, and vice versa? What did Rin want? Where he did he want to go with him? Anywhere? Nowhere? Would they talk about what had happened?

What _were_ they?

The moment he felt Haru's head press against his shoulder, just a soft tilt (they were so close it could hardly be called a lean), Rin knew the answer.

They were okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/91279079158) on tumblr.)


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